


We're Not Broken Just Bent (we can learn to love again)

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, implied/preslash, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows his pack, knows their in and outs and quirks and nooks and crannies.</p>
<p>He knows Derek.</p>
<p>He knows something is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Not Broken Just Bent (we can learn to love again)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is slightly AU. It would be my headcanon is canon didn’t fuck it up entirely. But I like this idea A LOT. So I finally decided to get the idea down on paper, so to speak. Like most of what I write, there might be more to this at some point, I dunno.

Stiles knows something is wrong. Because for as human as he is, this is his pack. These are his friends and his family—not by the blood in their veins but the blood on their hands. He knows when Erica grows tired of her bitch routine; he knows that Isaac is hopelessly in love with Scott and that sometimes Isaac just needs to be held; he knows everything about Scott and is learning new things all the time; he knows when Jackson is upset about a Lydia thing, and vice versa; he even knows when Boyd is upset, however infrequently that happens.

Stiles knows his pack, knows their in and outs and quirks and nooks and crannies.

He knows Derek.

He knows something is wrong.

)

Stiles finally intervenes when Derek breaks Scott’s arm in a sick crunch; it’ll heal perfectly fine, but slow and Stiles knows that Melissa still worries over her baby boy. Jackson and Boyd lean against each other on the sidelines, mutually concussed. Stiles takes in his island of misfit toys and decides it’s time to have a serious discussion with the serial toymaker.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he marches over and takes Derek by the pointed ear, growling under his breath that  _they need to talk_. Stiles also pointedly ignores Erica cry of “oh no, mommy and daddy are fighting again!” in favor of dragging Derek around the house. The betas could still hear them no doubt, but it was better than nothing.

“Stiles.”

“No, you stop that. Right the fuck now.” Stiles crosses his arm and juts out his chin. “I’m sick of your “I’m the alpha!” bullshit. You may be their superior but you’re not their god damned—you’re not judge, jury, executioner. You’re supposed to be their leader.” Stiles takes a brave step forward, oddly lacking in fear. “Throwing them into rivers and trees and breaking their arms isn’t _leading_  them anywhere but animosity.”

Derek sneers, but Stiles is almost positive he shrinks in stature, shoulders drooping.

“I know this was never your penultimate plan, but it’s what you’ve got so you need to fucking  _make it work_.”

Derek shrinks more, and Stiles idly wonders if he’s going to far. He decides, instead, go big or go home.

“I’ll help, but you need to fucking let me help you. You need to listen to the betas, because despite whatever that little voice in your head tells you  _you aren’t always right_.” Stiles bares his teeth, the same way Scott and Jackson do when they get into a scuffle.

Derek actually bows his head, shoulders slumped and fists relaxed into open hands at his sides.

_Submission_ , Stiles thinks,  _he’s submitting to me_. “Do you understand?”

Derek nods after a prolonged silence.

“Are you going to tell me why you’ve been a bigger dick than usual?”

Derek seems to swallow a lump in his throat. “I—do I have to?”

Stiles remarks on how small, how fragile he sounds. “Yes.” His voice betrays his wonderment, his tone hard and commanding.

Derek’s expression falls in on itself, hopelessly vulnerable. “I was born an omega.”

Stiles blinks, piecing together the clues. “You weren’t ever meant to become an alpha.” Stiles raises a slow hand, watching Derek watch him with careful but unflinching eyes. “Betas may be trained to take over, but omegas..”

“Never.”

Stiles sighs through his nose, all pity and sadness. “Derek, I’m sorry, I—?”

Derek shakes his head resolutely. “You’re right.”

“I am.” Stiles agrees, because for all that he pities Derek, Stiles knows he’s right.

“I’m not.. doing well. In this position.”

“Better than Peter.” Stiles supplies.

It earns him a small tired smile. “But not good enough.” Derek adds.

“How can we fix that?” Stiles replies, instantly, already past the moping stage and onto the problem solving stage.

Derek shrugs. “If it were to happen, it would’ve been—someone like Laura or Peter to teach me, once I’d taken over.” Derek scrubs a muddy hand over his face, and Stiles grips his wrist to keep him from spreading the mud around. Derek drops his hand immediately. “But since they’re both gone I don’t… I don’t know.”

Stiles nods. “Understandable.” He taps his chin, not missing the way Derek stays as small as possible in his own personal space. “We could wing it.”

Derek shakes his head. “I—that’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

“Right.” Stiles swears softly under his breath. “We could talk to Deaton.”

Derek seems to consider it. “It’s all we really can do.” He agrees.

“I can head over now,” Stiles checks his phone. “I needed to leave soon anyways, dinner with dad.” Stiles looks at Derek. “Will you be okay until we figure this out?”

Derek shifts uncomfortably. “I can try.” He promises.

“No more breaking Scott’s arm.”

“Okay.”

“No more concussing the betas, unless they really  _really_  deserve it.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you guys just all go for a run tonight?”

“Okay.”

Stiles grins. “We’ll get this evened out, okay?”

Derek nods.

“I’ll call you tonight and fill you in on what Deaton tells me.” Stiles says, to silence from Derek. “Okay?”

Derek starts, head low and gaze fixated on the forest floor. “Okay.”

“Good.”

)

“Ah, Stiles. What sort of life or death situation does Derek need out of this time?”

Stiles laughs; Deaton is equal parts admirable, and creepy as fuck. “None.”

Deaton feigns shock. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing.” He faces Stiles, turning from the dog on the examination table. “What’s the problem then?”

Stiles explains as he watches Deaton bandage the dog’s sore paw, as Deaton checks a cat for fleas, as Deaton cages the other animals for the night and locks the front door.

“I had forgotten Derek was an omega.” Deaton murmurs. “It’s not surprising he’s having such a hard time.”

Stiles nods. “Is there anything we can do to fix it?” He leans against the wall. “We don’t exactly have a friendly alpha around town to teach him.”

Deaton brushes past Stiles to the book shelf; he pushes other books aside before pulling out a thick anthology. “This has happened before, just not often.” Deaton explains as he peels open the book, a layer of dusting floating off it. “But when it does, it gets recorded, usually.” He flicks between the pages, fingers nimble on tattered material. He ‘aha’s quietly, and points to a passage. “Another member of the pack can take on alpha status, but only if they’re genuinely suited for it.”

“Genuinely suited?” Stiles mimics. “Like, someone who could be an alpha?”

Deaton nods. “Most records show that it’s the omega’s mate who takes on the responsibilities and most of the power of the alpha status, which makes sense. It allows for the omega to stay in his rightful place—as an alpha, but without the power he can’t completely control, the emotions and responsibilities that are too great for him.”

Stiles claps his hands together. “Perfect! So, who takes over? Derek is always mentioning that Scott could be an alpha, or Jackson.”

Deaton shakes his head. “I think…” He breaks into a grin. “How very curious.” He drawls.

Like Stiles said—admirable, but creepy as fuck.

)

Derek is waiting on his bed when Stiles decides to turn in for the night. He doesn’t jump, he simply nods at Derek and grabs a pair of pajama pants. He slips into his bathroom, changes, and slips out again in record time.

“You talked to Deaton.” Derek observes with a wrinkle of his nose.

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, figured it out.” He mentions. He doesn’t sit beside Derek, though the invitation seems clear. “He said that someone else needs to take on the responsibilites and strength of the alpha.” Stiles recites. “You’d still be the actual alpha, head of the pack and ‘king,’ so to speak. But you’d have a partner with whom you could share the stress.”

Derek nods.

“Deaton says it needs to be me.”

Derek continues to nod.

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“You think I can handle it?”

“Yes.” Derek shifts, and this time Stiles does sit beside him.

“Do you want me to do it?”

There’s not even a pause to inhale, “yes.”

Stiles smiles. “Stay the night?”

“Your dad—?”

“Will be sleeping in late tomorrow morning, it’s Saturday and he’s off. You can leave tomorrow.” Stiles scoots and lifts the covers. “Shoes and jacket off, though,” he commands, almost relishing the hasty comply from Derek.

Derek clambers under the blankets, and Stiles curls around him, hands tucked against Derek’s waist and chin on Derek’s shoulder.

“We really are mommy and daddy now, aren’t we.” Stiles mentions through a yawn.

Derek grins, and Stiles matches it ten fold.


End file.
